


Take the Plane

by StrangeOccurrence



Category: IT (1990), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Airports, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Complicated Relationships, Drinking, During the 27 Years (IT), Explicit Language, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Friends With Benefits, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Infidelity, Love Confessions, M/M, New York City, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Short One Shot, Winter, how the hell am I meant to tag things, just a tad, kinda soft, make of that what you will, plane actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28322574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangeOccurrence/pseuds/StrangeOccurrence
Summary: “I broke up with her.” Eddie says.“You- pardon me?”“I left. Just now.”“Eds… I can’t do this again.” Richie leans back in his seat. The plane is moving now, blinking lights drift past in the window.“This isn’t like before.” Eddie says.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Kudos: 81





	Take the Plane

Richie was nineteen when he realised that he was in love with his best friend. The grief and joy of it was something he’s still not sure how to reckon with. They were on the barrier, side by side, at the quarry, looking over the water. The sun was sinking and it was snowing thinly. Richie was wrapped in his jacket and a blanket from the back of his car. Eddie had a heat pack buried in each pocket, his hands balled around them.

Richie tried to grab one of the packs, but Eddie held on for dear life, so they ended up with Richie’s hand in Eddie’s pocket, fingers loose over his knuckles. The heat from the little radish-shaped packet was nothing. It was insignificant compared to the waves of prickling heat rippling up his arm and into his chest. They sparked along his nerves and lit him up. Eddie always made him feel warm.

“I won’t miss you.” Eddie snapped when Richie wiggled his fingers, making a last ditch attempt to prize Eddie’s hand open. He didn’t actually want Eddie to move. He wanted to keep his fingers wrapped around Eddie’s. He wanted them to stand on top of these rocks for the rest of time; until they turned into rocks themselves and spent eternity joined together. But the silence was thick, and Richie was weak, and the slow bloom of his life changing in front of him was blinding. So he scrabbled around in Eddie’s pocket, bothering him until he pinched at Richie's hand with his blunt nails. 

“You will.” Richie said, reaching to pinch him back.

“No.” Eddie tugged his hand, heat pack and all, from his pocket and cradled it by his other hip. “I will thank the lord every day that he gave me a chance to get away from you.”

Richie looked down. Eddie’s eyes were already on him. Deep brown, shadowed by his brow. ‘ _Oh_.’ He thought. There it was, like tiny pins in his chest. _‘I love you.’_

He didn’t say that. He didn’t say anything.

The evening must have been getting to Eddie, too, in some small way- or maybe Richie's face betrayed some of the avalanche going on in his head- because Eddie quietly said,

“Of course I’ll miss you, Rich. You know that was a joke.”

“I know, Eds.” Richie said. He hoped, anyway. All he knew was that in ten day’s time, Eddie would be shivering along the streets of New York. He’d be freaking out in the subway and scrubbing his new apartment with a bath-full of bleach; and Richie would still be in Maine, rotting in his bedroom. Writing shitty skits he’d never do anything with.

“I’ll keep Sonia company.” He said after a pause. Eddie smiled. A sliver of a thing. Barely a glimpse of what he kept barricaded behind that set frown. When Richie coaxed it loose; when Eddie brought a hand to his mouth, eyes squeezed shut and the bright of his laughter hit Richie- That was what it was all about. They couldn't manage it that day. Everything was fucked up. 

“I better get back.” Eddie said. Richie’s car sat idle on the dirt track. Only a few yards away, but also a million miles. Behind this barrier, they were kids. They were animals. They were the sand and sticks and water. Over there they were people. Two nineteen year olds on New Year’s Eve. One leaving, one staying.

“Yeah.” Richie said. “Let’s go.” 

So that was that. His heart would break more than once over the next few days, and then many, many times over that year. 

Of course he did move on eventually, in a manner of speaking. A few more years and he wasn't crying about it anymore or anything. He carved himself a life outside Derry. He moved himself out from the broken glasses in his parents' kitchen and smell of scotch on the landing at three in the morning. He landed in California, where he made a few new friends. None whom wouldn't screw him out of a night’s sleep or a twenty wherever they could, but they gave him something to do.

And sometimes, year on year, he saw his old friend Eddie.

Sometimes he and his old friend Eddie would fool around while Eddie's new girlfriend was at work.

He wasn't proud of it, but Richie was less bothered than Eddie was. If he let himself think about it long enough, he might have been bummed about getting so much of what he'd always wanted with Eddie, but missing out on what he'd hoped that would mean. But he _didn't_ think about it. He told himself over and over that he got over Eddie years ago, and then he got wasted downtown at Karaoke with Bev. 

Richie doesn't remember much of his twenties. 

He did, in his rare moments of clarity, have limited phases of introspection about Eddie, so he knew that the sex itself was not an issue. Richie was sure he'd do that part even if it sentenced him to a lifetime of torture. He once told Stan that he wanted it in his obituary. Stan didn't like that idea. 

It wasn't the fact that Eddie had a girlfriend, either. Richie really should have done, but he didn't care about what it meant for Myra. The issue began with the fact that Richie did, grudgingly, care about Eddie, and Eddie definitely _did_ care how Myra felt. This doesn't mean he told her, he just had a lot of panic attacks and ghosted Richie until he'd convinced himself he was straight again. Then it was monosyllabic texts until one of them was in town again and- as much as Richie liked Eddie, that part didn't feel good. Because Richie knew it hurt Eddie, and more selfishly, he knew that Eddie ultimately flew back home to Myra. He curled himself up against her, not Richie, and poured out all those spiky feelings into their bed, in their apartment. Or maybe he didn't. Maybe he kept them inside, walking around like a ghost in his own house. 

Sometimes, after Eddie left, Richie thought about the version of himself who stood on the barrier all those years ago. A nowhere town in Maine full of dust and ice and monsters. He wondered what Richie- nineteen and so scared- would say if he could see them like this. He doesn't know if it would make him laugh or cry. He thinks maybe he'd want to punch himself in the nose. 

Jury's still out. 

That hasn't happened in a while, now. The hook up stuff. Richie still sees Eddie. Eddie's still with Myra. More often than not, when he's in New York, Richie gets unbelievably fucked up. Today is no exception. 

“Do you think this is healthy, Rich?” Eddie says at one in the morning. Richie can’t reply. Richie is struggling to make his brain sync with his body.

“Oh, jeez.” Eddie’s muttering. He’s picking up cans from the carpet. “Myra’s gonna love this.”

Richie has a surge of coordination, and he reaches for the bottle nearest him. He’s sunk the warm remainder of its contents by the time Eddie snatches it from him. He floats above him, arms disjointed and spider-like. His head doesn’t seem all that attached to his body. His pint sized body. Richie closes his eyes. He’s not sure what was in his last few drinks.

“D’n’w’rry ‘bout me.” Richie says. He holds up and then immediately wants to throw up. Eddie scuttles out of sight and returns with a bucket. His timing is perfect. Richie’s heaving, the ring of red plastic swimming at his eye line. He’s submerged. Red everywhere.

“Done?” Eddie says after a while. Richie feels a hand on his collar. “Don’t fucking lie in the bucket. Hey? You hear me?”

“No.” Richie sighs. The edges are blurring, now. Darkness swoops up from nowhere, pushing in on all sides and shutting him down like blinds.

“Rich?”

***

“I’m sorry.” Richie says for the hundredth time.

“It’s okay.” Eddie says. He has that tight little clip at the end of his sentence; the one that means he’s really pissed off but doesn’t want to go into it. Richie knows it’s real when this happens, because usually Eddie _loves_ to go into it.

“I’m sure you can put the rug into the dry cleaning-“

“Honestly, forget about it. When’s your flight?”

“Nine-ish.”

“Okay.” Eddie leaves the room. “I’ll call you a car.” He says before the office door shuts behind him. Richie wants to say something, but he feels like he's done enough. He worries almost every time that it'll be the last time Eddie lets him come and visit. It's been getting less frequent since Stan moved further south. There really were none of them left on the East coast anymore. Bev finally gave up New York and lives about forty minutes from Richie in LA. Ben's in Seattle, but he's at Bev's more than his own home. Mike's in Florida. Bill's fucking married, god bless Audra. 

But Eddie is in New York. Eddie is going to be in New York until the sun explodes. 

***

The airport is hell. Laguardia should be an exclusion zone, Richie thinks. Richie is hung over, and this makes him feel strongly about things. He's also embarrassed. It's a bad combination. 

When he finally settles into his seat, he feels his eyes closing. It's coach, way up the back. He presses a knuckle into the socket of his eye and then he thinks he might be losing it. He rubs his eye once more and squints through the window. Someone is jogging across the tar-mac. Someone with a very familiar harried gait.

“Eddie.” Richie says to the window.

A flight attendant is wobbling down the stairs, clutching the curved disc of her hat in the wind. Richie sits up straighter, pressing his forehead against the plastic.

Eddie reaches the steps and starts saying something to the flight attendant. Richie can almost hear him in his head. The shape of his mouth indicating the exact level of Bitch he’s firing at this poor flight attendant. He’s in a black pea coat, pointing a handful of papers over his shoulder at the gate.

Then the flight attendant is battling against the wind up the stairs again, Eddie in hot pursuit. Richie thinks he’s probably hallucinating; in fact, he’s probably dreaming. They’re going to shut the plane door, and he’s going to wake up back in California with a crick in his neck and with no Eddie.

Richie's almost calmed himself down when five minutes pass. He's getting ready to settle down and get out his book, but his brain is apparently not done playing its cruel trick, because he hears a familiar, antsy sounding voice say:

“Hey.”   
  
“Uh-“ Richie looks up, and there he is. Black blazer collar underneath the coarse wool of his peacoat. 

“Excuse me.” Eddie says to the man next to Richie. He’s been dozing since they sat down. Richie is still sure he’s sleeping himself. “Hey!” Eddie says, earning a reproachful look from the woman he’s standing over. The guy next to Richie stirs. “Hi!” Eddie says when he opens his eyes. “Want a seat in business?”

“What?”

“I need your seat. You can swap with me.”

“I- What’s going on?” The guy says.

“Your guess is as good as mine, bud.” Richie says. 

“Richie-“ Eddie gives him a frustrated look, his jaw tightening. Richie, dream or not, always liked when that happened. “It’s an emergency.” He turns back to the shellshocked guy next to Richie.

“He’s not a murderer.” Richie says, deciding that if he’s dreaming, he may as well go along with it.  
  
“I swear, man, it’s not bogus. Look.” Eddie hands him his ticket.

“He’s loaded, this shit’s like penny-candy to him.”  
  
“Richie.” Eddie says sharply.

“Are you fellas sure?” The guy looks between them, fingers clasping the boarding pass.

“Yes, but you gotta go now or you’ll have to wait until after takeoff.” Eddie says, his lip quirking because he’s impatient. Richie can’t help but smile.

“Okay.” The guy says, still looking nervously between the two of them as he gets his bag together. He gets up and feels around in the overhead locker. “This some big romantic gesture or somethin’” he asks while he pulls a case down. He's using a voice that indicates he does _not_ think that's what's happening. Eddie closes his eyes and Richie laughs loudly.

“Oh, yeah.” Richie says. "Only way he can be _big_ in a romantic setting, if you get my drift."

"God." Eddie says into his hand. The guy gives a smile which is closer to a grimace, and thanks Eddie hurriedly as he heads back up the aisle towards the business cabin. 

"Really, Rich?" Eddie scoots himself into the seat and buckles himself in just in time for the safety announcement, which he hushes Richie for; making him wait another agonising two minutes to know what the fuck Eddie, or dream Eddie- though Richie doesn’t usually dream in this much detail, so he’s slowly accepting his new reality- was doing there.

“Okay!” He says when the crew start down the aisles towards their seats for takeoff. “What the fuck, dude. Did you just buy a plane ticket to bite my head off for another couple hours, or-“

“I broke up with her.” Eddie says.

“You- pardon me?”

“I left. Just now.”

“Eds… I can’t do this again.” Richie leans back in his seat. The plane is moving now, blinking lights drift past in the window.

“This isn’t like before.” Eddie says.“Oh, fuck.” he says tightly. The engines start to roar.

“You hate flying.” Richie says with a small smile. 

“Humans have legs for a reason.” Eddie mutters squeezing his eyes shut as the wheels leave the tarmac. The plane judders, and Eddie’s hand flies onto the armrest, and grips around Richie’s like a limpet.

“Ouch.” Richie says quietly. He’s still smiling.

Eddie doesn’t open his eyes again until the seatbelt lights blink off. It’s a good fifteen minutes. Richie doesn’t mind.

He breathes out and lets go of Richie’s hand.

“She was- sorry, Rich- but she was cussing you out and being, you know-“

“Oh, sure. Gotta love her. You know how to pick ‘em-“

“Shut the fuck up don’t be an ass.” Eddie says, his voice is edging on shrill. Richie bites his lip and nods.

“Right. Still raw. I get it.”

“God you are pathetic I’m getting off.“

“The plane?” Richie says.

“I would rather die than sit next to you for another second.”

“The thousand bucks you just threw away would beg to differ, sweetheart.“

“Your body will never be found. Are you listening to me? I will chop you into a thousand pieces and hide them from here up to Vancouver and no one will know.” Eddie hisses, words fast and hushed and Richie is grinning so hard his cheeks might crack clean open.

“What was it this time?” He says, ignoring Eddie’s long and adorable string of threats. “She leave a dish out ten minutes too long? Did you whip out that sexy microscope of yours and count one too many bacteria near her toothbrush?”

“That doesn’t make any sense-“

“Did you get her tested for chronic Bitch disease? She get that from you?"

"Richard. I am trying to tell you about a serious life event."

"Ooh, did you fall in love with your doctor because only _he_ knows his way around your freaky-”

“No fuckface I fell in love with you.” Eddie says. And that, to Eddie’s credit, stops Richie in his tracks.

“Funny.” Richie says after a long pause. “Funny joke, Eds. I have a few notes about the delivery, but overall-“

Richie trails off, because Eddie’s avoiding his gaze now.

“No way.” Richie whispers, and he can’t for the life of him think of anything else to say.

“Yeah.” Eddie says. “I get it’s too too late. Like a year too late. I should have said something while we were, um, involved. It wasn't fair on you.” His shoulders slump. Richie hadn’t noticed, because Eddie is what Richie lovingly refers to as ‘insanely anal-retentive’ at best; but it leaves him now. The tension flows out into the cabin. Eddie’s almost invisible without it. A negative space.

Richie frowns.

“So...”

Eddie looks at him.

“I _know_." he sighs. "I, like, missed my chance with you. Not that I had a _chance._ God, I’m fucking this up.” He drops his head against the seat rest, then he lifts it again quickly. Richie can almost hear him worrying about head-lice.“I was scared, before.” Eddie says. “I wasted a lot of time thinking it could never be more than what we _did_.”

"What we did?" Richie repeats slowly.

"I know it was bad and I know it's my fault; and I promised you I could keep it causal, but I think knowing you so well and trusting you with all that stuff... it was too hard for me to separate it all out. You and my, um, feelings." Eddie laughs awkwardly. "It was never gonna go anywhere. I don't think I was really letting myself believe that was what I wanted to begin with. But I know now. And with Myra back there, ripping into you- I realised I was, like, more protective of you than her and it flipped a switch, man. It all made sense. The past ten fucking years of my life. I couldn't wait anymore without you knowing, too. Then, fucking at last, I can move on."

Richie's brain ticks over. 

“Eddie, it wasn’t just a fuck.” he blurts out. Eddie blinks at him. “Sorry-“ Richie says, quieter. “Is that what you're saying?" he studies Eddie for a moment. He doesn't say anything. "You gotta know that, Eds? Me and you? It was never gonna just be, uh, bodies.”

Eddie looks past him, through the window into the black. His collar is digging into his neck. Richie wants to adjust it, but he doesn’t.

“I don’t know.” Eddie says. “I didn’t think about it that much.”

“Oh.” Richie says.

“I just couldn’t.” He says. Richie nods.

“Can we back-pedal for a second, Spaghetti. Hypothetically, who said you missed your chance anyway?” Richie says. He's giddy. He could just tell him, if had any presence of mind. He could just come out with ' _I've been in love with you all of my adult life_ '. Richie's been dreaming about this day for ten years. He's not letting it slip away that fast. 

“You hate me.” Eddie says.

“Do you have brain damage?”

“Okay, I know you don’t _hate_ me. But things were always so weird afterwards. I know I was being too much. You have a lot going on with other people back in Cali. Plus there was all the stuff with you being out and me not being able to- Oh shit“ Eddie gets a distant look on his face again. "Does this mean I'm gay?" he says softly. Richie stares at him. 

"Doesn't have to." he says after a second. "But it's sweet that that didn't occur to you when my-"

"Shh!" Eddie says, gesturing to the old couple across the aisle. Richie shrugs. "Look, I'm trying to say sorry for how it was. I let it go on too long, and you hate Myra and it made you hate me and I wish we'd never done it sometimes, but I'm also glad we did because I, uh, it changed my life." he says, breathing out through his mouth like he just completed a speech at the UN. 

“Eddie.” Richie says gently. “I'm gonna try and say this nicely, but if you're talking about every time it was weird between us, that was because of your issues. Your… whatever. I'm not blaming you here or anything, man. We can talk accountability for the rest of the flight if you want, but I never hated you. I never cut you off. I never, fucking- I never stopped _thinking_ about you. Ever. Sometimes I'd be in my kitchen and I'd just talk to you. Out loud. Sometimes I really thought you were there. Whenever we didn't talk, that was because you didn't want anything to do with me. Don’t put that on me.” Richie says. It's honest, but not unkind. 

Eddie has a thousand yard stare again, and Richie’s okay to just watch him. He always felt that being on a plane was like being in a different universe. Liminal, that’s what they call them. These places where you’re not one place or the other. He looks at Eddie’s worried little creased brow, and the hurricane that he knows is going on underneath.

“This is perfect.” He says out loud.

“Huh?” Eddie says, frown deepening. Richie laughs. He laughs until the couple trying to sleep across the aisle are staring. Eddie taps Richie’s bicep. “What is wrong with you?” Eddie says.

“Nothing.” Richie says. “So… have anything else you wanna say, pal?”

Eddie looks taken aback.

“Um. I don’t know. Not- It’s off my chest now. I don't know why I didn't tell you earlier, I knew you wouldn't be weird about it. It was Myra I think. I just wanted to-“

“Eddie!” Richie says. He wants to shake him by the collar of his stupid, sharp, _hot_ New-Yorker-Business-Man Jacket. “What did you fuckin’ follow me on here to say?”

“I told you already, are you serious?” Eddie says. “Are you a sadist-“

“You love me, that’s it?” Richie says. He can’t believe he just said that so calmly. Shocks are reverberating through his intestines.   
  
“I don’t understand why you’re being a prick."

“Let me spell this out for you, baby. Nice and clear. Did I, Richie Tozier, the dude you are so hopelessly in love with-“

“I wouldn’t say-“

“The man who is so handsome you would follow him anywhere. The guy who-“

“Richie, people are looking.”

“Did. I. Say. No?” Richie says.

“No to what?”

“Exactly.” Richie says. They look at one another, both swivelled in their seats. Richie's knee jammed against the seat in front. Eddie’s face relaxes, like something’s occurred to him.

“Oh, do you- you wouldn’t want to, like, try it would you?”

“Your highness.” Richie bows low over the arm of their seat. He can feel Eddie’s reproachful look nailing the top of his head. “Since you have deigned to ask, for my lowly opinion. I do indeed accept.”

Eddie’s expression is stuck between irritation and thoughtfulness for a moment. 

“Well.” He says. “I can’t promise I’m even ready for anything to be honest. I don’t even know what I had in mind. It was such a blur booking the tickets after Myra was throwing all that shit around. She kept threatening to get a dog just so she could neglect it because I wouldn’t be there? I-“

“Eddie.” Richie says, because he can see that spiralling into another existential monologue. “You know when I always said 'no conditions'?”

”Sure.” Eddie says, looking like he’s about to be tricked. Richie’s heart melts through his rib cage and into his stomach. 

”That means I wanna do whatever you want. If it never even starts, fuck it. It was always gonna be a yes, you fucking idiot. No conditions.”

He pushes at Eddie’s arm with his elbow. Eddie’s eyes meet his and there’s a moment when they both realise what exactly they’d just done.

“Fuck.” Richie says. Then he’s leaning in and Eddie only freaks out a little bit when their lips meet. Soon enough his hands are at Richie’s neck, one cradling his jaw. Richie doesn’t care if this is a dream. This is enough to keep him going until he kicks the bucket. 

“For goodness sake.” Says a voice to their right a few minutes later. Richie pulls back from Eddie, who looks irritated to have been interrupted; though he would absolutely have a conniption if he was next to someone making the noises they just were. Richie is beaming. He thinks he may be beaming for the rest of time. He pets Eddie's hair with the palm of his hand. 

“You are a cock, Tozier.” Eddie says. His lips are red and his cheeks are a rusty pink. 

“This is the best day of my life.” Richie says. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll clean this up in the next few days so sorry if it's all shitty. Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
